


Outside-Context Solution

by L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Amélie needs a hug, Character Death, Kaine does what Peter can't, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n/pseuds/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n
Summary: In which a Spider sweeps a Widow's problems away.





	Outside-Context Solution

Outside-Context Solutions

**Spider-Man is property of Marvel. Overwatch is property of Blizzard.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

**Line Break**

 

Kaine awoke to the sound of gunfire. Well, ‘awoke’ is a bit of a misnomer. In actuality, gunfire sounded far too his left, and his instincts—spider or otherwise—forced him flat against a wall.

 

As he clung to the wall, he brought a hand to his head, frowning as he felt his brain pounding. “Ugh…” he grumbled groggily, “What the fuck happened?”

 

There was an explosion, and a piece of debris rocketed towards him. Almost lazily, flicked his wrist out, crushing the rock as easily as one would swat a fly.

 

“Feel like I downed two whole pitchers of Sangria.”

 

Then, it all came rushing back.

 

He scowled, pressing his two fingers against his earpiece, “I’m going to stuff that damn pig into an oven!”

 

There was static on the other end. Another explosion boomed far away.

 

“Come on, come on, come on!”

 

“Kaine!” a voice buzzed through the static, “Kaine, is that you?”

 

Kaine shook his head, “Hello? There’s a lot of static.”

 

There was small whine over the earpiece, and the voice said, much more clearly, “Kaine, Kaine, can you read me?”

 

Kaine sighed in relief, “Pavtir, thank god! The pig—”

 

“Is being thoroughly reprimanded,” the Indian Spider-Man of another universe sternly said, “I assure you.”

 

“ _Better be spit-roasting him,”_ Kaine thought darkly. Outwardly, he said, “Any idea when you’ll be picking me up.”

 

There was a grunt on the other end, along with a muffled, hurried conversation, “Maybe ten minutes. Any idea where you are?”

 

Kaine huffed, taking in his surroundings. He looked up at the sky. Earth’s moon, full and shining down on them, that’s a good sign. He hummed, glancing down the street, “…See a couple Union Jacks waving around.” Before he could say more, more explosions and gunfire cut him off.

 

“Was that a bomb?” At Kaine’s confirmation, Pavtir suggested, “Perhaps you’re in 1940’s London?”

 

Kaine eyed a Kia to his left, “…I doubt that.”

 

“Well, whenever and wherever you are, sit tight.”

 

Kaine grunted, ending the call as more debris soared overhead. He crawled along the wall, towards the cacophony of battle; now that he had his bearings, he could afford to satiate his curiosity.

 

“What am I in for this time?” he said beneath his breath, “Hydra invasion in London? One of Fury’s ‘covert’ missions?”

 

He finally made it to the main action, and quickly found himself dumbstruck by what he saw. “What…the fuck?”

 

It was all so…colorful.

 

There were thirteen people total, shooting wildly at each other in the streets. The most interesting by far being a man so fat Kingpin would feel jealous, wearing pig-styled fetish gear, swinging a long, hook chain at a black man with yellow dreads, who darted out of the way and fired…green waves of energy at the pig-man. Further ahead, he saw a man in white a white cybernetic suit with green highlights, swinging a word to block arrows shot his way by an Asian man in a blue kimono.

 

An explosion quickly caught his attention, towards a skinny, blonde man that looked like he face-planted into a smoke bomb, cackling wildly as he flung explosive sat a blonde woman in a flying suit—complete with golden wings and a halo. The mad bomber was forced to dive to the side as there was a flash of light to his left, followed by a brunette woman in a jumper running forward and shooting at him. The woman was forced to retreat in another flash of blue, however, when a man pulled a Nightcrawler and burst out of black smoke, firing wildly at her. If Kaine strained his ears, he could faintly hear the mantra ‘Die! Die! DIE!’

 

Near a string of ruined buildings, a man with was firing blue energy at another Nightcrawler wannabe; though this one—a woman—was at least magical, given the purple orbs she fired back at the man. Down the street, a young woman in bulky power armor wielding glowing hammer and shield was trying, and failing, to crush a large, metal ball underfoot. Comically, every third or fourth miss, a hamster would pop out and, based on the way she grit her teeth, insult her. Away from them, at the end of the street, was a man covered head-to-toe in hulking, white power armor, holding a large, dangerous looking hammer in one hand, his other arm outstretched, maintaining a translucent blue barrier. Occasionally, bullets would strike against the shield, but he otherwise did nothing.

 

Frowning, Kaine leaned forward, his suit’s optics zooming in. He eyes shot up as, behind the shield, under some rubble, a family huddled together, flinching at every bullet that bounced off the giant man’s shield.

 

Kaine whirled around as his suit calculated the bullet’s trajectory. He growled lowly as he saw the shooter—a sniper on a rooftop about a three, maybe four, miles away.

 

**Line Break**

 

The Talon operative largely known as Widowmaker was, to put it mildly, bored. Her—she growled at the thought—masters wanted to cause general havoc in London—something to do with a peace summit—and all she could do was fire at Reinhardt’s shield, keeping in from moving lest she kill the people hiding behind him.

 

She scoffed, as if she’d waste ammunition on something so pointless.

 

_BRIPIPIPIP-BRIP_

 

She moved her eyes from her scope, still keeping up a steady stream of fire, to lower her visor. Immediately, the world turned the same tone as her ice-cold skin, and she could see a warm, humanoid shape carefully running across the rooftops.

 

She smirked, putting her visor up and staring down her sights, readjusting her aim. She could see him—no woman could be so broad-chested—carefully jumping roof-to-roof. A talon operative—no ‘hero’ would dare be caught dead in his sinister red and black bodysuit, opaque goggles glinting in the moonlight—but she didn’t recognize the uniform. What she did recognize was the jagged arachnid splayed across his chest. A flicker of annoyance flashed through her mind. A ‘spider’ come to check up on the ‘widow’. She scowled; what the hell could have brought this on?

 

Unbidden, a memory surfaced. A tombstone, fresh roses laying in front of it.

 

Her scowl turned into a sad frown. Perhaps she shouldn’t have risked a second visit in six months. She then schooled her features into a blank stare; a bullet in the arm ought to send a clear message.

 

The man paused as she took aim; true aim. That brought a smile to her face—it was always fun when a target knew they were screwed.

 

She took a quick breath, pulling the trigger. What she expected was for the man to cry out, clutching his arm and squirming on the rooftop in pain. What instead happened, earning him a small bit of her respect, was the man leaning to the side, bullet whizzing past him.

 

He turned his head, and she could tell that he was as angry as his mask made him look.

 

Then, rolled his neck, and disappeared from sight.

 

At once, she lowered her visor, aiming down her sight. “Reaper, come in,” she called through her comms.

 

“Die! Die! DIE!”

 

She rolled her eyes, of course. “Hanzo, Moira” she said, after finding the man’s heat signature once more. She fired, scowling as he ducked underneath her fire.

 

“What?” Hanzo grunted, the sound of metal scrapping against stone coming over the frequency as well. Moira merely huffed, letting the other members know she was listening.

 

“Unknown hostile, my position,”

 

“Who?” Hanzo asked.

 

Widowmaker scoffed, shooting and missing once more, to her growing irritation. “Unknown,” she growled.

 

“Truly?” Moira asked, intrigued.

 

Widowmaker didn’t repeat herself a third time, instead firing, and missing, once more.

 

Then, he blinked out of existence.

 

“Merde!”

 

“What is it?” Hanzo asked.

 

“He can block his heat signature!”

 

There was a brief moment of silence across the line.

 

“I’m heading over,” Reaper intoned.

 

Widowmaker nodded subconsciously, scanning the rooftops for some sign of her target as she reached into her pouch.

 

She waited, heart ticking to a crawl as she focused with all her might.

 

Waiting. She replaced her clip.

 

Waiting. She swept her gaze across the rooftops, lingering only for a few seconds at a time.

 

Waiting. Reaper and Hanzo shouting in her ear, informing them how close they were.

 

Waiting. A weathervane half-a-mile out spun violently

 

Quick as a flash, she hurled an EMP grenade just ahead of the weathervane. It went off, and for a few brief seconds, she cursed the fact that she missed. Until some electricity arced high above the rooftops, crawling upward until the man revealed himself—almost hanging in the sky, silhouetted by the moonlight.

 

She snarled, leaning back and unleashing a full clip at her target.

 

Astonishingly, he corkscrewed around in the air, weaving through thirty bullets in seconds.

 

Widowmaker dashed backward, reaching back into her satchel and tossing dozens of mines in front of her, latching onto the roof. The unknown man landed, perching on the edge of the awning.

 

He stared down at the mines, chuckling, based on how rapidly his chest rose and fell.

 

Widowmaker had already replaced her clip but was left dumbstruck as the man launched off his perch at speeds she thought no one—save for one cheeky brit—could dare hope to reach.

 

Time slowed to a crawl as he barreled forward, arms outstretched to grab her. She dove backward, quickly doing the math in her head, smirking as she concluded that he’d fall flat on his face, giving her ample time to shoot kill him before he recovered.

 

_SCHLICK_

 

Horrified, Widowmaker saw a pair of…things shoot forward from the man’s wrists. One tore into her abdomen, and another struck right through her sternum.

 

Time all too quickly resumed its normal pace, and the man touched down, shoving forward and pushing her down onto the roof, piercing her heart.

 

Widowmaker opened her mouth, a short cry passing through her lips as crimson blood poured out.

 

She was going to die. This was not her first brush with death, her first mortal injury, but something, deep, deep down told her that this time, death would not let her go.

 

And not-quite-so deep down, her pierced heart sang out in joy.

 

Vision blurring, she stared up into the hard, cold eyes of her killer. Smiling a soft, true smile that hadn’t graced the world in years, she raised her left hand, cupping his masked cheek.

 

“Je vous remerice,” she whispered.

 

And thus, for the first time in a long, long time, Amélie Lacroix knew peace.

 

**Line Break**

 

The only reason Kaine didn’t slap her hand away was because his spider-sense wasn’t blaring—well, not at her.

 

In turn, he was surprised when she gently cupped his covered cheek, smiling up at him. “Je vous remerice,” the woman whispered. She then breathed her last, hand falling limp, a smile on her face.

 

Kaine frowned, recalling his stingers and gently setting her body down, “‘Thank you’…have to admit, that’s a first.”

 

His spider-sense blared one final alarm.

 

“Death bec—urk!”

 

Without turning, Kaine shot out a cord of webbing, attaching it to the man’s face. He whipped his arm down and forward, slamming the Nightcrawler rip-off into the roof—and the mines.

 

As the man screeched in pain, Kaine sighed, staring at the latest in a long line of bodies. Slowly, he reached his hand out, closing the woman’s eyes. He sat back, frowning at the pity that welled up in his soul.

 

“Kaine, we’ve got a portal up and running,” Pavtir suddenly said in his earpiece.

 

Kaine stared back at the woman. If not for the massive holes in her chest, you might think she was having a pleasant dream. He grunted, “Let’s go.”

 

Not a moment later, a teal portal split the air open, swallowing Kaine within it.

 

Hanzo sped up when he saw the burst of light the portal emitted, but by the time he reached the roof, it disappeared. Leaving him with a groaning, wounded Reaper, and a smiling, dead Widowmaker.

 

**Line Break**

 

Kaine rolled his shoulders as he stepped forward, officially entering Earth-13, Loom World.

 

“Ah, there you—oh heavens, what happened?” Pavtir asked, switching on a dime from excited to weary.

 

Kaine looked down at his blood-stained costume. He shoved down the pity rising up through his being, “Killed some blue lady taking potshots at a family.”

 

“Wait, you mean Mystique?”

 

Kaine turned, spider-sense warning him that this Peter Parker—wearing a costume with a darker shade of blue and thicker lines crisscrossing his costume—wasn’t his Peter Parker. He shook his head, “No…some French chick I’ve never seen before.”

 

Peter nodded, moving beside Pavtir, staring down at a screen, “Moving on, you feeling alright?”

 

Kaine nodded, looking back at the portal, slowly swirling before it blinked out of existence. “Yeah…peachy.”

 

**A/N: This...is a story that exists because I think the only viable way for Widowmaker to know true peace is death. Plus, I’ve been wanting to write Kaine for a while, but could never think up a viable reason to do so. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


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